The Strong-Willed Duchess's Tale
by CKatHugger
Summary: Behind the tough facade of Diana, what truly troubled her beyond the walls of Rose Garden Orphanage? What was her past? How did she end up there in the first place? Read on to find out how she became so prideful and sadistic as she recounts her life while in death.


rule of rose: lost innocence

~**DIANA**~

Pride…oh, how I had enjoyed holding it dear to my heart. Pride is what I had lived for, how I had lived life, how I had even managed to keep myself on my two feet. It may have hardened me, but cruel independence will be your best friend in survival against this dog-eat-dog world. I remember that Mother always had that mentality.

"My dear madam, whereyou off to thisfine ev'ning?" The filthy brute's words had been suspiciously slurred, as if he were under effects of a drug of some sort.

"You inebriate cock! I told you to get away far from here, but you didn't listen!" Mother tossed her head high, her upturned nose arching in the air, peppered with freckles. Her smooth translucent skin glowed in the moonlight, her rose-red lips shone, and her sharp emerald eyes darted around her. What had seemed to attract most of the local drunkards, however, was her voluptuous form, often drawing them to her workplace like flies to honey. I don't quite remember why, but every night, she would hastily stuff me behind the doors of a cramped and splintered closet within a dimly lit room. Horrible things happened in that room in the place that Mother worked…vulgar activities that would make her shriek and cry and pound upon the ground in pain while rhythmic grunts and sniggers were heard. Things that made her crawl to me tearfully after it was all over, stretching out her slender hand with coins contained in her palm, and breathlessly reassuring me that everything would be alright. However, I knew nothing would ever be alright, not even if God sent a miracle to save us all.

Strangely enough, this man had been different than the usual thugs that had visited my mother's bed for payment. Mother had seemed to be intimately acquainted with him and, out of a kind action of heart, dragged him across her shoulders and tried hauling him towards an unknown address.

Curious as I had been, I bit my tongue, for Mother had hated it when I had inquired too much or spoken out of turn. Back then, I longed for freedom and had attempted to be bold and wild, like Mother was, but her swift hands would reach me before her mind reminded her of my small stature and age. This had somehow churned up a desire in me to scream and lash out and stomp spiteful, tiresome, frail creatures down underfoot, perhaps due to Mother's violent discipline. I had the ultimate goal to let weak, cowardly, vexatious, stupid and greedy people that dared to touch my mother in any way know that they couldn't reign half as supreme as she and I would've been able to. It would've been so lovely if I had had a bit more time to create a strong and powerful reputation in order to protect Mother before it had been too late.

The mysterious man had suddenly shot his hand out and grasped my tiny one tightly. His fingers had felt so cold, as if they would freeze and come off at any given moment. Mother's tapered ones, unfortunately, had wrenched them off of me before anything else could be done, and the electrifying moment I had shared with the mysterious man ran away into the biting winter air.

She tossed the man into a vile pile of the regurgitated remains of alcohol that littered the cobblestone streets near the location where my mother had earned her keep through her body. "Don't you dare touch her, you deceptive bastard. Abusing the time we spent together, claiming that you wished for me to bear a child, and then abandoning me for that WHORE?! If not for you, I would still have the fortune left to take care of Diana! You should've at least had the sense to spend it all wisely when you ran away with it!" With a fiery whip of her crimson hair, Mother had brought her worn leather boots into the poor man's possibly upset stomach.

Feeling sudden pity for him, I had not moved, but instead, silently prayed for the end of his life. "Dear Lord, just cut the suffering. He need not go through the agony my mother inflicts upon him. I just hope he was a good man." Raking my eyes over his face, I had observed that if not for his grizzled hair strewn about his features, his glazed, murky eyes, and his seedy garments, he might've been a handsome young gentleman once, perhaps not too many years from that time. To this day, I never had the chance to have his identity revealed, but strangely enough, an inner instinct told me that he was my father. I can't be too sure in the afterlife, but I always kept that assumption to myself.

Anyways, I distinctly remember the way he glanced helplessly up at me, and how he startled me out of my fascinated stupor. "You resemble your mother, Diana. I'm so proud of you-"

Those were his last words.

Mother had delivered the final blow, panting heavily. "I am now a harlot, too. Do you still not desire me as much as that other slut?! I sold myself to save her, to save DIANA! Perhaps I was too pure of a virgin for your tastes?!" I gaped in horror as I witnessed the man's fresh blood mix with the rotting vomit seeping into his unmoving body. Rest in peace, I had thought.

Not too long after the murder, I heard a ruckus occurring outside of the closet I once again hid in, this time on my own impulse. Rocking back and forth, I had tried to shake the gory image of the man from my eyes, tiring myself in the process. Petrified, my aching muscles had tensed when I heard my mother being taken away, arrested, detained in some cell away from me forever. Instead of chasing after her, I'd decided to cower and muffle my screams and let the tears stream down my face. The feeling of peace, of having the quiet, calm atmosphere to fall asleep had not come to me in a long time, but at that moment, I did not wake up in a cold sweat, my eyes wide with terror. Instead, when I did wake up, I had found myself standing in front of a grand orphanage, Rose Garden.

I do not understand why I am like this now, always reflecting. Always defying the law of growth and maturity, wishing to stay as Mommy's little princess, proud, domineering, formal, and beautiful. Unexpectedly, those qualities are what had led me into dirty Mr. Hoffman's restless, wandering hands, into his caressing bed of nightmares and molestation, and eventually, to my death at the bloodthirsty, ripping jaws of Stray Dog.

All I had wanted was to be innocent again one last time.


End file.
